Prologue
The Intergalactic Confederation has been traveling the universe for decades.
Its primary mission: to peacefully explore new worlds, to document and map the countless forms of life scattered across the cosmos.
When a celestial body shows potential to sustain life, the Confederation puts its most advanced knowledge to work—terraforming—a complex series of operations designed to transform a sterile environment into a habitable world.
Its fleet, made up of ships of every size, brings together crews from a wide range of worlds, most notably from Polares—the founding planet—and from Earth. In theory, they all work toward the same goal: to preserve and expand knowledge, always with respect for life and its diversity.
In theory.
Because where knowledge grows, ambition and corruption often follow. Some civilizations seek to dominate rather than coexist, to exploit rather than protect.
To counter these threats, an elite unit was formed: the Galactic Sentinels.
Their mission is threefold.
As explorers, they carry forward the Confederation’s original purpose.
As engineers, they contribute to vast terraforming projects.
And as shadows, they are spies—capable of infiltrating criminal networks, tracking traffickers, and dismantling their empires, often at the risk of their own lives.
1-Prax
I cast a lazy glance around me.
The Minjo—a sort of underground gambling den where I’ve been stuck for a good four hours—is hazy with smoke rising from dozens of small bowls scattered across the place, all burning some kind of relaxing herb. The scent is acrid, barely masking the reek of locally distilled alcohol, which has clearly been flowing freely tonight.
The luminescent composite walls cast just enough light to keep every corner of the room under surveillance. A single beam from the ceiling, however, shines directly onto the central gaming table.
At this late hour, the place is nearly deserted. Just a couple of heavily intoxicated individuals from a species I can’t quite identify are slumped on the faded couches in the far-right corner of the room.
Lena, the dealer seated across from me, keeps a sharp eye on the players, occasionally flashing me a flirtatious smile.
And of course, there are my three companions at the table.
To my left: a foul-smelling human whose booze-soaked breath and glassy eyes suggest he won’t last much longer.
Next to him, on the far end of the table, are two Neroots. Their blue-gray fur and laid-back vibe scream “young males just entering adulthood.” They’ve drunk in moderation and are stillfairly alert despite the late hour. I can’t tell if they’re brothers or just friends.
Honestly, I feel like I’ve wasted my time here. A contact told me I might find some useful info in this forgotten corner of space, but none of the people around seem likely to offer any clues about what I came looking for—intel on the local trafficking routes in this part of the galaxy.
I decide to stick around for two or three more rounds before heading back to theBakartia, my two-seater ship. No point wasting more time in this dump, especially since I could use a little sleep.
I refocus on the current round ofRyu no Saikoro.
With my first two rolls, I’ve got two pairs—a guaranteedNami. Solid combo. I should be able to double my points by matching my initial bet. Of the three others at the table, two didn’t raise their bets, which means their hands probably suck. The third threw two more chips into the pot.
“My glass is empty!” the human groans, peering mournfully into his mug.
He’s speaking in the only human language recognized by the Coalition: English.
Other languages commonly used in this loose alliance of smugglers, dealers, and power-hungry types include Nanjii—the most widespread—then Srebat, Brolok, and even Polarian, the ancient language of the Confed’s founders! A basic translator helps everyone understand those five dialects. After all, how can you run a business if no one’s speaking the same lingo?
Suddenly, every hair on my neck stands on end.
My whole body goes on red alert, even though I haven’t dropped my guard for a second.
